


Crowley; a delicious read

by CreamcheeseBagel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Crowley, Flirting, M/M, No Sex, Protective Crowley, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Unresolved Sexual Tension, implied bottom crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamcheeseBagel/pseuds/CreamcheeseBagel
Summary: It's the little things in life; like chasing potential customers away from a certain bookshop in Soho, and having the angel all to yourself.'Crowley dipped his head with a wicked grin. ‘Always at your service’.'





	Crowley; a delicious read

Crowley drummed his slender fingers upon the spotless bookcase beside him, swirling digits into the woodgrain. If anyone were to glance at the handsome stranger, they would merely create a quick fantasy upon their life with the gentleman, wordlessly remark that he infact looked a little odd to introduce to parents, and move on hurriedly.  
Crowley on the other hand continued to pretend to be ignoring the not-so discreet glances within the spires of tomes, and ghosted his fingers across well-kept spines. Dust settled snugly over the shelving. Customers found themselves with the niggling desire to skulk home and did so without further encouragement.

Crowley wound his way around the bookshop, whispering words of contempt about particular novels and the oh so dire story-line he absolutely did not mean to spill, interrupting any determined stragglers.  
The fifth man, and last potential customer standing, was less than impressed at Crowley having explained how the author was really a pretentious prick who pandered to like-minded individuals and stormed from the bookshop with an array of colourful words.

‘Did you mean to insult that man?’ Aziraphale whispered, promptly appearing from a stuffy crevice and giving the fleeing man a small wave before slamming the door shut and locking the store away. ‘He looked ever so annoyed’.

‘Shall I cross my fingers that he won’t return?’ Crowley hummed, having successfully thwarted not one but three potential purchases. He sunk into an awfully niche armchair with an exaggerated huff.

‘I don’t think that’s necessary, my dear,’ the angel laughed as he began to re-arrange his books.

‘Oh, in that case shall I tempt him to return? Have him believe there’s a sale on?’.

‘No!’ Aziraphale yelped with quite a dramatic jump and twirl. Crowley blinked owlishly, his shades perched precariously around what he was told was a ‘man bun’. ‘You’re being wicked again! Aren’t you?’.

Crowley sighed heavily. ‘Of course I am. It’s not like I would intentionally say ‘hey come in and check out all these great books!’, because that would be too much effort. I would have to come in and chase them all away again. What a waste of time!’. He kicked his legs over the armrest, quashing the rising urge to act upon the statement. That would be absolute carnage, deliciously so, however it would also mean the angel would be testy and he would end up being banned for a month and well, that was decidedly worse for both parties.

‘I’d almost think that’s exactly what you _were_ doing!’ Crowley scowled hard. ‘But I know you have much more fun chasing customers away. Enticing them to leave has become quite your forte, er, if you don’t me saying!’.

Crowley dipped his head with a wicked grin. ‘Always at _your_ service’.

Aziraphale looked everywhere but his companion, fascinated by his very ornate light fixtures- they were quite fetching if you chose to crane your neck awkwardly backwards and had fantastic eye sight to really appreciate them. The angel had never realised before that he had taken the small chandeliers for granted.

‘Can I entice one to join me for a drink, now that I have your attention?’ Crowley smoothly interrupted, running his tongue across his teeth. ‘I’m parched. Doing the Devil’s work _is_ thirsty work…’.

Aziraphale blinked back at the demon and his lithe form stretched out, positively sprawled, across his armchair. Truly the most delicious read in the bookshop by far.

‘I do have some lovely vintage in the back’.

Crowley slipped from the seat, unfurling his body to stand confidently before the angel. He squeezed his shoulder lightly, moving around him slowly. ‘Lead the way, angel’.


End file.
